


Gravitational force

by concernedlily



Series: Entropy sequence [8]
Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Aftercare, Dom/sub, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-31
Updated: 2016-01-31
Packaged: 2018-05-17 10:59:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5866744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/concernedlily/pseuds/concernedlily
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry takes care of Eggsy after a difficult mission.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gravitational force

Harry looked up at the knock on his office door.

Eggsy poked his head round and gave him a strained smile. “You busy?”

“You're back,” Harry said. He answered the question by getting up and going to Eggsy, pulling him into the room and into his arms and letting the door swing shut behind them. 

Eggsy came easily, wrapping his arms bruisingly tight around Harry's waist and burying his face in Harry's shirtfront: there would be bloodstains, but Harry cared much less about that than about comforting that terrible expression off Eggsy's face.

He didn't bother to ask how the operation had gone. “What do you need?” he said instead, simply.

“Take me out myself,” Eggsy said, and raised his face.

Harry kissed him, gently at first, rising in slow time as he felt Eggsy starting the odd, beautiful alchemy of whatever it was that happened to him when he gave himself to Harry this way. A small sighing noise, nearly a whine; his body falling curving against Harry's as he draped more of his weight on Harry; a soft surrender of his open mouth that called Harry to _take_.

It gave Harry the same wonderful secret thrill now as it had every time since he'd kissed Eggsy in his kitchen, the exultation and humbling at such a display of Eggsy's trust and desire.

Eggsy was quiet and yielding when Harry pulled away, stroked his cheek and looked into his glazing eyes. “All right, my darling,” he said, and kissed Eggsy's forehead; Eggsy ducked into it and they breathed together for a moment, into the same rhythm. “Take your clothes off for me and stand in front of my chair with your hands flat on the desk.”

“Yes, Harry,” Eggsy said, smiling, and that lost them some more time to another deep slow kiss, Eggsy's hands craftily pulling Harry's shirt out of his trousers so he could find the sensitive skin of the curve of Harry's back, Harry's hand in his hair holding him in place for careful teeth on Eggsy's full lower lip.

“Tart,” Harry said affectionately, when they parted again. He swatted Eggsy's pert arse. “Go on.”

Eggsy went, stripping his t-shirt over his head and leaving it and the soft med-wing yoga pants he was wearing in an untidy puddle on the floor. 

Harry watched him from where he was, a step from the door at his coat stand. He pulled his leather gloves from the pocket - it was the end of full winter, the mornings still dark and chilly - and drew them on.

“Spread your legs,” he said quietly, when Eggsy was in position. Eggsy did. Harry went to the small side table next to the sofa and took a bottle of lubricant from the drawer there. “A little wider. A little more.” He heard Eggsy's frayed intake of breath from across the room but Eggsy's shoulders were still stiff, the weight of the op still on them.

Harry started by stroking him there. Eggsy made a small cry when he felt Harry's hands on him, the slick cool leather on his skin, surprise at the sensation rather than any distress; Harry kissed the nape of his neck and kept his hands steady on Eggsy's body, sweeping down his arms and tangling their fingers for a brief moment before a firm massaging touch all the way up again to his shoulders.

He missed touching Eggsy directly, but it had its own appeal; seeing Eggsy’s shuddering responses as he started to enjoy the unfamiliar feeling, learning this about him. Eggsy was still unpredictable to Harry, never failed to surprise and delight him. That simultaneous fascination and apprehension was much a part of Harry’s attraction to Eggsy as his quicksilver mind and parkour-honed arse and shitty attitude towards people who deserved to be shitty-attituded.

He kept caressing Eggsy softly. He could tell from the fading tension through the lovely muscled line of Eggsy’s back that it was starting to work, Eggsy starting to get lost in whatever part of himself found respite in bending to Harry’s will. It worked the same on Harry, in many ways, his focus narrowing down to the gorgeous creature under his hands, the minute tells of his sounds and twitches and the warmth he transmitted through the gloves.

A life’s worth of spy skills distilled down to the single goal of finding Eggsy’s pleasure and giving it back to him. The manor could have burst into flames and he couldn’t have found a fuck in himself to give, as long as Eggsy was content beneath him.

Eggsy said, “Harry,” in a voice that was charmingly wavering and dreamy. It triggered a familiar dual impulse in Harry: to protect Eggsy, look after him and earn the drowsy, satiated grin he would give Harry afterwards; and to ravage him, wreck him, leave him messy and used and completely undone by pleasure, his defenses gone, vulnerable and sweet to Harry’s keen attention. 

Harry sat down in his desk chair, used his knee to press Eggsy’s legs a little further apart, and sat back for a moment to survey what he had before him.

Eggsy was stunning, of course, his neat stocky shape all leashed power and youthful energy. Harry was so fucking lucky, to have Eggsy, that Eggsy had taken him back, that Eggsy had _come_ back, from this mission, the last one, the next one, all of them. Harry put his gloved hands on Eggsy’s slim hips and rested his forehead in the damp small of Eggsy’s back, smelling the rich musky scent of his sweat starting to break over his shower-clean blandness, and gave brief, amorphous thanks for him.

Eggsy said, “Harry,” again, on a sigh, luxurious and a little impatient, and Harry brought himself back to his task. 

He parted the round high cheeks of Eggsy’s arse, taking the opportunity for a quick appreciative squeeze, and ran a single finger down the crease. Eggsy gave a low moan and pushed his hips back, presenting his bottom, and Harry could read the plea clearly in the arch of his back.

Harry left a precise, wet kiss on Eggsy’s left arse cheek and poured lube over two fingers liberally. It was going to be the end of the gloves, probably, and Harry had a moment of solemn appreciation for their long and stylish service before it occurred to him that in fact they were probably not that much younger than Eggsy himself, and he was more than due new ones.

Although even if they’d been brand new: they were a sacrifice to a worthy cause.

They fucked with sufficient regularity and enthusiasm that Eggsy’s hole was practiced and welcoming to penetration. Harry pushed two fingers smoothly inside him and started a slow, easy fuck in and out. He leaned at an angle where he could see Eggsy’s handsome profile, watching the sensations chase across as his face as he accepted Harry’s gloved fingers with their slightly rough wet texture against the sensitive walls of his arse, his reactions as Harry fingered him with relentless skill.

He fetched his fingertips up against Eggsy’s prostate and nudged there, watched as Eggsy bit his lip violently so only a low choked wail made it out. The sound went straight to Harry’s cock, which inserted itself rudely into proceedings with a throbbing jerk against his trousers, the beginnings of an inconvenient wet patch on his charcoal wool trousers. Harry rarely bothered to wank off in Eggsy’s absence, and Eggsy had been gone four days: his balls were full and aching, his groin simmering with an insistent wish to sink inside, hammer and fuck and come.

It was all an annoyance, Harry’s full attention currently for Eggsy and Eggsy alone, and he let himself sink into his body’s demands for a moment and then set them aside, firmly, into a little part of his mind where his physical needs could stay and be distantly experienced and not matter.

He pressed another absent kiss to Eggsy’s hip and spread his fingers in Eggsy’s clenching tight arse. “How does that feel? Tell me, Eggsy.”

“Good,” Eggsy said; his voice cracked and Harry found a smile on his lips. “Feels - good, Harry, different, your fingers feel different in me, all soft, like a treat -”

Harry trailed the fingers of his other hand delicately over Eggsy’s arse, closed them possessively on Eggsy’s hip. The leather was supple, buttery, and he could feel Eggsy’s heat through them. “And there?”

“Makes me think of you,” Eggsy said. He dropped his head; Harry watched him clench and drag his fingers against the cool knotted wood of Harry’s desk. “Harry - fuck, _please_ , smells like you, all rich and sharp, makes me think of - nights out, all elegant and warm, _Harry_ , babe, please.”

“You’re so lovely like this,” Harry said. He teased a third finger round Eggsy’s rim, dipping in just the tip with its neat seam. Eggsy trembled and wriggled back, trying to get more, fuck his hand, and Harry twisted his wrist and used his thumb to tease Eggsy’s perineum, manipulating him from inside and out and watching his face go slack and quiet with pleasure. “You’re mine like this, aren’t you?”

He was watching for it so he caught Eggsy a second before his knees gave out, brought Eggsy safe onto his lap and used Eggsy’s instinctive yearning tilt to him to take his mouth, Eggsy giving up the sweet pure yielding of being completely under. He was so willing in Harry’s hands, totally owned and desperate and lovely, and Harry wrapped his arm around Eggsy’s waist and shared intoxicating deep kisses with him, fierce with responsibility and power.

“Put your feet on the desk, darling,” Harry said, the low confident tone Eggsy responded to best when he was so needy, down so far. He helped Eggsy, who was heavy with lassitude, getting him to prop his heels on the desk, legs straight.

He wanted Eggsy to feel entirely looked after, no choices to make, nothing he needed to do, no move he could make; only needing to do as Harry said, feel what Harry led him to. No leverage; no life or death decisions to make. “There you go, that’s lovely, darling boy. And take hold of my wrists - yes, just like that. Keep them there, sweetheart.”

Eggsy hummed against his neck, arched against him. He wriggled his arse against the bulge of Harry’s cock as best he could, working and writhing, and Harry couldn’t resist his lips again for a gentle kiss at odds with the demanding, leaking stiff length of Eggsy’s cock. He slid one hand onto Eggsy’s flat stomach, holding Eggsy securely against him.

Eggsy ran his hand over Harry’s, back up to stroke his wrist and down over his hand again, smiling at the feeling of the leather, and Harry caught his fingers in tacit permission, twining their hands, Eggsy’s palm against the warm-leather of Harry’s. 

His other hand, he used to take a firm grip of Eggsy’s cock and Eggsy wailed with surprise and pleasure, muffling the sound in Harry’s throat. Harry felt him open his mouth and bite gently down there and tilted his face to give Eggsy room as Eggsy’s hand fumbled and circled his wrist. Eggsy’s fingertips landed on the fast thrum of his pulse, by accident or design, and Harry could feel his own beating heart under the pressure of Eggsy’s hand.

He didn’t want to push Eggsy to the edge, didn’t want to hear him beg any more, not today. He touched Eggsy briskly, relying on the novelty and feeling of the leather gloves to do much of the work, his face buried in Eggsy’s hair and murmuring sweet nonsense Eggsy probably couldn’t hear, and if he could probably wasn’t attending to. It was a curious state he reached, not something Harry entirely understood but something he treasured nevertheless: it was because of Harry and Harry was entirely necessary to its success, but it added a layer between them, like having Eggsy in one of his glass cases to admire and keep and care for.

Eggsy moved against him as best he could, so helplessly hungry for sensation. Harry watched the flush rise over his chest, his toes curling on the desk, and added a sly twist of his thumb over the head of Eggsy’s cock and Eggsy came, silent and strong. His fingers tightened convulsively on Harry’s wrist: he’d have marks, tomorrow.

“Lovely,” he said, more a rumble than a word, and he calmed Eggsy back against his chest, rocked them as best he could on the somewhat precarious sanctuary of Harry’s desk chair.

Eggsy was limp against him, turning his head into Harry’s neck and breathing raggedly. “Good?” he mumbled and Harry said, “Always, Eggsy. My good boy,” and Eggsy nodded against him and rested.

Harry lost track of how much time passed before Eggsy tensed his fingers wrapped around Harry’s wrist and plucked at him weakly. Harry let him and Eggsy brought Harry’s hand to his mouth with a little sound of happiness and licked Harry’s come-dripping gloved hand with deviously slow long strokes of his tongue that made Harry’s long-ignored cock complain and hurt and beg.

“Bloody hell,” Harry said, fervently, and the moment Eggsy was finished Harry captured his mouth in a heady kiss, curling his tongue into Eggsy’s mouth for the taste of Eggsy and good leather together.

“I want…” Eggsy said fuzzily. Harry wasn’t quite sure how the sentence had been intended to end but Eggsy was moving, slowly, slid himself off Harry’s lap and onto the floor.

“Eggsy?” Harry said, cupping his cheek, and Eggsy blinked up at him and then started on Harry’s trousers with fumbling determination. Harry helped him to get to Harry’s cock, stroked his hair and thumbed the dampness under his eyes.

Eggsy put Harry’s cock in his mouth and sighed, his eyelids fluttering and his face angelic with pleasure.

… And he stayed there, sitting back on his heels and putting his arm over Harry’s thighs and suckling very gently at Harry’s cock, holding it in the wet warmth of his mouth, his body lit with comfort and relaxation.

“Really?” Harry said, too fond, too worried, to urge for more. “All right.” He struggled out of his jacket, taking care not to dislodge Eggsy, and put it tenderly over Eggsy’s shoulders: it was a nice office, but draughty as fuck.

He put one hand in Eggsy’s hair, chewed his lip against the frustrated whimper he would have liked to make, and reached for the report he’d been reading before Eggsy’s return.

***

He measured about twenty minutes of increasing inattention, each moment feeling like a more excruciating double of the one previous, and then Eggsy started to shift on his knees and suck with more purpose. He looked down and Eggsy was looking back at him, hovering somewhere on the way up to alertness. 

“Ready?” Harry said gently. “Come here, darling.” Harry reached down for him, his cock jerking pitifully as it lost the delirious warmth of Eggsy’s mouth; Harry bit back a disappointed groan, but couldn’t stop the couple of pointless jerks of his hips, sliding on his cushioned chair.

He stood, bringing Eggsy up with him, and they kissed with lazy banked passion. Eggsy squirmed his hand between them and clutched and rubbed cleverly at Harry’s wet, near-painful dick and Harry panted into his mouth. Eggsy muttered, “I wanna make you come,” honest and filthy, and Harry shook in his arms.

Harry guided Eggsy to the sofa, small but just about able to accommodate two full grown men, assuming they didn’t object to close quarters. They squashed on side-by-side, and kissed and touched and murmured: Harry had been hard so long it was like he’d gone through the peak of his need and coming was almost an afterthought, hard and satisfying, and probably the messy last straw for Harry’s shirt.

After so long tangled up in Eggsy’s responses, his feelings, Harry had the same curious bittersweet comedown as usual, the slow falling back of his focus inside his own mind and body. He kept Eggsy close, kissed Eggsy’s forehead and stroked his back and felt Eggsy’s racing heart slow and his breaths relax against Harry’s throat, letting himself drift.

“Shall we go up to our rooms?” Harry said eventually, already thinking about how he’d get Eggsy up there with the minimum of fuss and interruption. Of course it was common knowledge that they were together, but this sleepy sweet version of Eggsy, straight after the games they played together: that was for Harry, and he guarded Eggsy’s privacy jealously.

“In a minute,” Eggsy said and curled closer. “He got hurt, Harry. Maybe worse. I couldn’t stop it.”

“You did your best,” Harry said steadily. Eggsy was still so open to him, so raw, he couldn’t do anything but soothe; but even without knowing what had happened, he knew that was true.

Eggsy turned his face into Harry’s chest and Harry held him more tightly. They breathed, together.


End file.
